Fritz and Zooey: Migraine Aura

Zooey and Fritz descended from their creative insanity into the happily lit streets of the night. They walked in silence for some time taking in the atmosphere of the city that they equally adored. If there was any time they loved the city, it was in the vibrant early evening, when cheesy neon lights were no longer just for the frequented adult shops, but they reigned for everyone’s enjoyment.

“So,” Zooey challenged their silence, “Aren’t you going to tell me anything about this place we supposedly own?” Fritz looked at her warmly.

“It’s going to be a suprise now that you’ve gotten all inquisitive,” he challenged.

“What? No way,” she stammered, “you can’t keep me guessing all night. My imagination will turn me into a blubbering insomniac. You know how scary that is.”

“True,” said Fritz, “but still, words can’t even describe how remotely awful and amazing this place is.”

“Awful and amazing describes quite a lot to me. It must be wonderful then. Do you smell corndogs?” Zooey sniffed the air.

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